Produced by Suzanne Shell, Beginners Projects, Mary Meehan and theOnline Distributed Proofreading Team.
THE GIRL AT COBHURST
BY FRANK R. STOCKTON
1898
CONTENTS
CHAPTER
I. DR. TOLBRIDGE II. MISS PANNEY III. BROTHER AND SISTER IV. THE HOME V. PANNEYOPATHY VI. MRS. TOLBRIDGE'S CALLERS VII. DORA BANNISTER TAKES TIME AND A MARE BY THE FORELOCK VIII. MRS. TOLBRIDGE'S REPORT IS NOT ACCEPTED IX. JOHN WESLEY AND LORENZO DOW AT LUNCHEON X. A SILK GOWN AND A BOTTLE XI. TWO GIRLS AND A CALF XII. TO EAT WITH THE FAMILY XIII. DORA'S NEW MIND XIV. GOOD-NIGHT XV. MISS PANNEY IS AROUSED TO HELP AND HINDER XVI. "KEEP HER TO HELP YOU" XVII. JUDITH PACEWALK'S TEABERRY GOWN XVIII. BLARNEY FLUFF XIX. MISS PANNEY IS "TOOK SUDDEN" XX. THE TEABERRY GOWN IS TOO LARGE XXI. THE DRANES AND THEIR QUARTERS XXII. A TRESPASS XXIII. THE HAVERLEY FINANCES AND MRS. ROBINSON XXIV. THE DOCTOR'S MISSION XXV. BOMBSHELLS AND BROMIDE XXVI. DORA COMES AND SEES XXVII. "IT COULDN'T BE BETTER THAN THAT" XXVIII. THE GAME IS CALLED XXIX. HYPOTHESIS AND INNUENDO XXX. A CONFIDENTIAL ANNOUNCEMENT XXXI. THE TEABERRY GOWN IS DONNED XXXII. MISS PANNEY FEELS SHE MUST CHANGE HER PLANS XXXIII. LA FLEUR LOOKS FUTUREWARD XXXIV. A PLAN WHICH SEEMS TO SUIT EVERYBODY XXXV. MISS PANNEY HAS TEETH ENOUGH LEFT TO BITE WITH XXXVI. A CRY FROM THE SEA XXXVII. LA FLEUR ASSUMES RESPONSIBILITIES XXXVIII. CICELY READS BY MOONLIGHT XXXIX. UNDISTURBED LETTUCE XL. ANGRY WAVES XLI. PANNEYOPATHY AND THE ASH-HOLE XLII. AN INTERVIEWER XLIII. THE SIREN AND THE IRON XLIV. LA FLEUR'S SOUL REVELS, AND MISS PANEY PREPARES TO MAKE A FIRE
THE GIRL AT COBHURST
CHAPTER I
DR. TOLBRIDGE
It was about the middle of a March afternoon when Dr. Tolbridge, givinghis horse and buggy into the charge of his stable boy, entered the warmhall of his house. His wife was delighted to see him; he had not been athome since noon of the preceding day.
"Yes," said he, as he took off his gloves and overcoat, "the Pardell boyis better, but I found him in a desperate condition."
"I knew that," said Mrs. Tolbridge, "when you told me in your note thatyou would be obliged to stay with him all night."
The doctor now walked into his study, changed his overcoat for awell-worn smoking-jacket, and seated himself in an easy chair before thefire. His wife sat by him.
"Thank you," he said, in answer to her inquiries, "but I do not wantanything to eat. After I had gone my round this morning I went back tothe Pardells, and had my dinner there. The boy is doing very well. No, Iwas not up all night. I had some hours' sleep on the big sofa."
"Which doesn't count for much," said his wife.
"It counts for some hours," he replied, "and Mrs. Pardell did notsleep at all."
Dr. Tolbridge, a man of moderate height, and compactly built, with sometouches of gray in his full, short beard, and all the light of youth inhis blue eyes, had been for years the leading physician in and aboutThorbury. He lived on the outskirts of the little town, but the lines ofhis practice extended in every direction into the surrounding country.
The doctor's wife was younger than he was; she had a high opinion of him,and had learned to diagnose him, mentally, morally, and physically, withconsiderable correctness. It may be asserted, in fact, that the doctorseldom made a diagnosis of a patient as exact as those she made of him.But then it must be remembered that she had only one person to exert herskill upon, while he had many.
The Tolbridge house was one of the best in the town, but the family wassmall. There was but one child, a boy of fourteen, who was now away atschool. The doctor had readjusted the logs upon the andirons, and wasjust putting the tongs in their place when a maidservant came in.
"There's a boy here, sir," she said, "from Miss Panney. She's sent foryou in a hurry."
In the same instant the doctor and his wife turned in their chairs andfixed their eyes upon the servant, but there was nothing remarkableabout her; she had delivered her message and stood waiting. The doctor'sfists were clenched and there was a glitter in his eye. He seemed on thepoint of saying something in a loud voice, but he changed his mind, andquietly said, "Tell the boy to come here," and turned back to the fire.Then, when the girl had gone, he struck his fist upon his knee andejaculated, "Confound Miss Panney!"
"Harry!" exclaimed his wife, "you should not speak of your patients inthat way, but I agree with you perfectly;" and then, addressing the boy,who had just entered, and who stood by the door, "Do you mean to say thatthere is anything serious the matter with Miss Panney?" she saidseverely. "Does she really want to see the doctor immediately?"
"That's what they told me, ma'am," said the boy, looking about him at thebooks and the furniture. "They told me that she was took bad, and that Imust come here first to tell the doctor to come right away, and if hewasn't at home to leave that message."
"How did you come?" asked Mrs. Tolbridge; "on horseback?"
"No, ma'am; with a wagon."
"You could have come a great deal quicker without the wagon," said she.
"Oh, yes, but then I've got to stop at the store going back."
"That will do," said Mrs. Tolbridge; "you can go now and attend to yourother business."
The doctor was quietly looking into the fire, and as his wife turned tohim he gave a little snort.
"I was just beginning to get up enough energy," he remarked, "to think ofputting on my slippers."
"Well, put them on," said she, in a very decided tone.
"No," replied the doctor, "that will not do; of course I must go to her."
"You mustn't do anything of the kind!" exclaimed Mrs. Tolbridge, her eyessparkling. "How many times by night and by day has that woman called youaway on a fool's errand? It is likely as not that there is nothing morethe matter with her than there is with me. She has no right to worry thelife out of you in this way. She ought to have gone to heaven long ago."
"You shouldn't talk of my patients in that way, Kitty," said the doctor;"and in the opinion of a good many of her neighbors the old lady is notbound for heaven."
"I don't care where she is going, but one thing is certain: you are notgoing to her this afternoon. You are not fit for it."
"You must remember, Kitty," said the doctor, "that Miss Panney is an oldlady, and though she may sound many a false alarm, the true alarm is tobe expected, and I would much prefer to go by daylight than to wait untilafter supper. The roads are bad, the air is raw, and she would keep menobody knows how late. I want to go to bed early to-night."
"And that is what you are going to do," said Mrs. Tolbridge.
He looked at her inquiringly. "Harry," said she, "you have been upnearly all night. You have been working the greater part of this day, andI do not intend to let you drive three miles to be nearly talked to deathby Racilia Panney. No, you needn't shake your head in that way; she isnot to be neglected. I shall go myself and see what is the matter withher, and if it is really anything serious, I can then let you know. I donot believe she would have sent for you at all, if she had not known thewagon was going to town."
"But, my dear," said the doctor, "you cannot--"
"Yes, I can," interrupted his wife. "I want some fresh air and shallenjoy the drive, and Buckskin has done nothing for two days. I shalltake the cart, Tom can get up behind, and I can go there in less thanhalf an hour."
"But if there really is anything the matter--" said the doctor.
"It's just as likely as not," interrupted his wife, "that what she wantsis somebody to talk to, and that a minister or a lawyer or a strangerfrom foreign parts would d
o just as well as you. And now put on yourslippers, push the sofa up to the fire, and take your nap, and I'll goand see how the case really stands."
The doctor smiled. "I have no more to say," said he. "There are angelswho bless us by coming, and there are angels who bless us by going. Youbelong to both classes. But don't stay too long."
"In any case I shall be back before dark," she said, and with a kiss onhis forehead she left him.
Dr. Tolbridge looked into the fire and considered.
"Ought I to let her go?" he asked himself. This question, mingled withvarious thoughts and recollections of former experiences with MissPanney, occupied the doctor's mind until he heard the swift rolling ofthe dog-cart wheels as they passed his window. Then he arose, put on hisslippers, drew up the soft cushioned sofa, and lay down for a nap.
In about half an hour he was aroused by the announcement that MissBannister had called to see him.
Long practice in that sort of thing made him wake in an instant, and theyoung lady who was ushered into the study had no idea that she haddisturbed the nap of a tired man. She was a very pretty girl, handsomelydressed; she had large blue eyes, and a very gentle and sweet expression,tinged, however, by an anxious sadness.
"Who is sick, Miss Dora?" asked the doctor, quickly, as he shookhands with her.
She did not seem to understand him. "Nobody," she said. "That is, I havecome to see you about myself."
"Oh," said he, "pray take a seat. I imagined from your face," hecontinued, with a smile, "that some one of your family was in desperateneed of a doctor."
"No," said she, "it is I. For a long time I have thought of consultingyou, and to-day I felt I must come."
"And what is the matter?" he asked.
"Doctor," said she, a tear forcing itself into each of her beautifuleyes, "I believe I am losing my mind."
"Indeed," said the doctor; "and how is your general health?"
"Oh, that's all right," answered Miss Dora. "I do not think there is theleast thing the matter with me that way. It is all my mind. It has beenfailing me for a good while."
"How?" he asked. "What are the symptoms?"
"Oh, there are ever so many of them," she said; "I can't think of themall. I have lost all interest in everything in this world. You rememberhow much interest I used to take in things?"
"Indeed I do," said he.
"The world is getting to be all a blank to me," she said; "everythingis blank."
"Your meals?" he asked.
"No," she said. "Of course I must eat to live."
"And sleep?"
"Oh, I sleep well enough. Indeed, I wish I could sleep all the time, sothat I could not know how the world--at least its pleasures andaffections--are passing away from me. All this is dreadful, doctor, whenyou come to think of it. I have thought and thought and thought about it,until it has become perfectly plain to me that I am losing my mind."
Dr. Tolbridge looked into the fire.
"Well," said he, presently, "I am glad to hear it."
Miss Dora sprang to her feet.
"Oh, sit down," said he, "and let me explain myself. My advice is, if youlose your mind, don't mind the loss. It really will do you good. Thatsounds hard and cruel, doesn't it? But wait a bit. It often happens thatthe minds of young people are like their first teeth--what are calledmilk teeth, you know. These minds and these teeth do very well for atime, but after a while they become unable to perform the services whichwill be demanded of them, and they are shed, or at least they ought tobe. Sometimes, of course, they have to be extracted."
"Nonsense, doctor," said the young lady, smiling in spite of herself,"you cannot extract a mind."
"Well, perhaps not exactly that," he answered, "but we can help it to beabsorbed and to disappear, and so make a way for the strong, vigorousmind of maturity, which is certain to succeed it. All this has happenedand is happening to you, Miss Dora. You have lost your milk mind, and thesooner it is gone the better. You will be delighted with the one thatsucceeds it. Now then, can you give me an idea about how angry you are?"
"I am not angry at all," she replied, "but I feel humiliated. You thinkmy mental sufferings are all fanciful."
"Oh, no," said the doctor; "to continue the dental simile, they are thelast aches of your youthful mentality, forced to make way for theintellect of a woman."
Miss Bannister looked out of the window for a few moments.
"Doctor," she then said, "I do not believe there is any one else whoknows me, who would tell me that I have the mind of a child."
"Oh, no," replied Dr. Tolbridge, "for it is not likely that there is anyone else to whom you have made the fact known."
There was a quick flush on the face of Miss Dora, and a flash in her blueeyes, and she reached out her hand toward her muff which lay on the tablebeside her, but she changed her purpose and drew back her hand. Thedoctor looked at her with a smile.
"You were just on the point of jumping up and leaving the room without aword, weren't you?"
"Yes, I was," said she, "and I have a great mind to do it now, butfirst I must--"
"Miss Dora," said the doctor, "I am delighted. Actually you are cuttingyour new mind. Before you can realize the fact, you will have it allfull-formed and ready for use. Let me see; this is the ninth of March;bad roads; bad weather; no walking; no driving; nothing inspiriting;disagreeable in doors and out. I think the full change will occur withinthree weeks. By the end of this month, you will not only have forgottenthat your milk mind has troubled you, but that the world was ever blank,and that your joys and affections were ever on the point of passing awayfrom you. You will then be the brave-hearted, bright-spirited woman thatNature intended you to be, after she had passed you through some of thepreliminary stages."
The flush on the face of Miss Dora gradually passed away as she listenedto this speech.
She rose. "Doctor," said she, "I like that better than what you have beensaying. Anyway, I shall not be angry, and I shall wait three weeks andsee what happens, and if everything is all wrong then, the responsibilitywill rest on you."
"Very good," said he, "I agree to the terms. It is a bargain."
Now Miss Dora seemed troubled again. She took up her muff, put it down,drew her furs about her, then let them fall again, and finally turnedtoward the physician, who had also risen.
"Doctor," she said, "I don't want you to put this visit in the familybill. I wish to--to attend to it myself. How much should I pay you?" andshe took out her little pocketbook.
Dr. Tolbridge put his hands behind him.
"This case is out of my usual line of practice," he said, "and myordinary schedule of fees does not apply to it. For advice such as I havegiven you I never charge money. I take nothing but cats."
"What!" exclaimed Miss Dora; "what on earth do you mean?"
"I mean cats," he replied, "or rather kittens. I am very fond of kittens,and at present we have not one in the house. So, if you have a kitten--"
"Dr. Tolbridge," cried Miss Dora, her eyes sparkling, "do you really meanthat? Would you truly like to have an Angora kitten?"
"That is exactly the breed I want," he answered.
"Why, I have five," she said; "they are only four days old, and perfectbeauties. I shall be charmed to give you one, and I will pick out thevery prettiest for you. As soon as it is old enough, I will bring it toyou, already named, and with a ribbon on its neck. What color would youlike the ribbon to be?"
"For Angoras, blue," he said; "I shall be so glad to have a kitten likethat; but remember that you must not bring it to me until its eyes areopened, and it has--"
"Doctor," interrupted Miss Dora, raising her forefinger, "you were juston the point of saying, 'and has shed its milk mind.' Now I am going awaybefore you make me angry again."
When his patient had gone, Dr. Tolbridge put another log on the fire,shook up the cushions of the sofa, and lay down to continue his nap.